Chapter 5
Piper
I’m living a lie. A beautiful, peaceful lie… But, a lie nonetheless.
Bellamy’s Hearth & Home is in full chaotic swing.
The curse has settled to a dull buzz, my customers are blissfully unaware, and everything smells like peppermint candles and pastry spells.
Frost sparkles harmlessly across the windowpanes.
The register sings its little tune. My morning line stretches out the door.
People are already asking questions…
“Why were you closed yesterday?”
“Are you okay?”
“Did the curse flare early?”
“Did a spell backfire?”
“Did the mistletoe attack again?”
“Was it a BOY?”
I choke every time.
“No emergency,” I lie. “Just… family things.”
Rhea texted me twelve laughing emojis and a GIF of a dumpster fire two minutes ago. I’m ringing up a bundle of snow-protection charms when Mrs. Alderberry leans over the counter conspiratorially. “You look flushed this morning, dear.”
“I’m fine,” I answer quietly.
“Did you meet someone?”
“I’m going to die.” I spit out, then smack myself in the head for saying it out loud.
“Oh! So it WAS a man!”
Before I can throttle myself with my own apron—bells over the shop door chime. Not normal chimes. A low, resonant sound like the opening note to a very dangerous symphony. My stomach drops. No.
No no no—he wouldn’t. Fucks sake! He did.
Slade steps into my shop like he owns dimension and fucking air itself. And the women of Snowglobe Hollow collectively lose consciousness. I swear half the town swoons on the spot.
He’s wearing dark jeans and a black Henley I did NOT give him, stretched over muscles that should not be legally visible in public. His black hair is tousled like he just stepped off a romance cover model set. His eyes—those impossible, dancing green eyes—sweep the shop and land on me.
Heat flares under my skin. He feels it. I know he feels it. The room fills with feminine sighs.
“Who is THAT?” … “Oh my GOD.” … “He’s gorgeous!” … “Is he… with Piper?” … “They look like a couple.” … “She deserves it. Look at those shoulders.”
Slade eats it up. EATS. IT. UP.
His smirk is obscene. He stalks toward the counter with slow, confident steps, like every human here should be thanking him for breathing.
I hiss under my breath, “I told you to stay home.”
He leans against the counter, entirely too close, voice a low purr only I can hear. “You told me many things, little witch.” His eyes glint. “I listened to none of them.”
I want to strangle him with a garland. Mrs. Alderberry clasps her hands, starstruck. “Oh Piper, dear—is this your… boyfriend?”
I nearly swallow my tongue. “No—NO—he’s not my—this isn’t—”
Slade places a warm, heavy hand on my lower back. I freeze. He says—loud enough for the entire shop to hear—“I’m hers.”
A chorus of gasps detonates. I make a noise only bats can hear. Slade’s grin widens, wicked and triumphant. I elbow him sharply. “Stop it!”
“I thought I was making things easier,” he murmurs with faux innocence.
“You’re making things worse!”
Mrs. Alderberry fans herself. “Oh my.”
Slade leans down, voice brushing my ear. “You’re welcome.”
I glare at him with the force of a thousand collapsing stars. He just smiles. The fucking bastard.
I don’t think. I grab Slade’s wrist—hot, solid, arrogant—and yank him behind the counter. “Back room. NOW.”
A few customers gasp. Someone whispers, “Oh my…”
Slade, of course, looks positively delighted. I march him through the beaded curtain, slam the door behind us, and whirl on him, ready to unleash holy hell—He’s already leaning against a shelf. Arms crossed. Smirk sinful enough to get us both arrested. “You wanted privacy?” he asks.
“I wanted to yell at you.”
“You can do that in private too.”
Gods. Give me strength. I poke him in the chest. Hard. “What. The fuck. Was that?”
He cocks his head. “The truth.”
“You told them you were mine.”
“Should I clarify?” He leans forward. “Should I specify in what ways?”
My face bursts into flames. “STOP. Talking.”
His voice drops. “Make me.”
Oh no. NO sir.
Slade steps off the shelf, closing the distance in a single predatory stride. Then he cages me against the door. Again. “But I told you—” he murmurs, “I go where you go.”
I shove his chest. He doesn’t budge. He moves like a mountain—like he’s letting me push him for his amusement. “Slade,” I warn, “your behavior is—unwelcomed.”
“Liar.”
My mouth falls open. “You can’t just say liar whenever you want!”
“I can when it’s accurate.”
I growl.—actually growl. He laughs. His hand slides to my waist—slow, warm, claiming. My brain automatically short-circuits. “Don’t touch me,” I whisper.
He leans in, breath warm against my jaw. “I think you like when I do.”
“I don’t.” It’s a lie, we both know it.
“You tremble when I do,” he counters.
“That’s the curse!”
“Is it?” he asks softly. “Or is it me?”
My pulse stutters. Something crackles overhead. The lights flicker. The shelves rattle faintly. A jar of moon-bloom salt hops an inch like it’s trying to escape the tension.
Slade’s smile sharpens. “The curse is reacting to us.”
“Then STOP being so—so—”
“Devastatingly attractive?”
“ANNOYING.”
He chuckles low. “Sweetheart, I was born annoying.”
“Born annoying,” I mutter. “And built like a temptation trap.”
His eyes gleam. “You think I’m built well?”
“I am NOT answering that.”
“You just did.”
This can’t be happening. A soft rattle comes from the shop floor outside the back-room door. Just one. Someone murmurs, “Did you feel that?” Someone else gives an uneasy laugh.
Slade’s damn smile goes nuclear, sending a wave of nervous energy bouncing around in my stomach.
The lights flicker again. A stack of spell tags flutters off a shelf.
A dried herb garland sways like there’s a breeze—though there isn’t.
Magic ripples through the room, sharp and electric.
Slade steps back slightly, listening. His expression shifts from amused…
to intent. “The curse is mirroring you,” he says.
“Mirroring what?”
“Your emotions,” he clarifies. “They’re unstable. So the curse is unstable.”
“That’s not—I’m not—unstable—!!”
He lifts a brow slowly.
I sag. “Okay, FINE, I’m unstable! You’re destabilizing!”
Slade actually looks pleased. “If I affect you that much, maybe you should reconsider fighting the bond.”
“The bond can eat my ass.”
A pause. A very heavy pause. Slade tilts his head. Dead serious. “…Is that an invitation?”
“NO—Slade STOP—WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS—”
From the shop floor, a patron calls gently through the curtain, “Everything okay back there?”
I slam my palm over my face. Slade leans in, mouth inches from mine, eyes burning green fire. “This town is very supportive.”
“Get. Away,” I groan.
“Say it nicely.”
“I will STILL hex your dick.”
He laughs. “Still not a deterrent.”
I shove him again. This time he lets me. He steps back with a little bow. “Your wish, little witch.”
I crack the door open—just barely. The shop looks mostly normal.
Just… jittery. A few customers shifting awkwardly.
A candle flame fluttering against nonexistent wind.
Magic humming faintly under the floorboards.
Mrs. Alderberry glances my way, eyes narrowing.
“Oh dear,” she murmurs. “You’ve got a glow about you. What happened?”
I slam the door shut. Slade crosses his arms, smug. “You’re welcome.”
“SLAAADE.”
“This is fun,” he says.
“THIS IS A NIGHTMARE.”
He smirks. “Not for me.”
“Get out.”
He saunters to the door like a lazy predator. Instead of leaving, he leans against the frame, smoldering. “You told me to stay put,” he says. “And I did.”
“This is NOT what I meant!”
“It’s what the bond meant.”
I scream into my hands. The shelves tremble again. And Slade? Slade wears a smile that is pure, unadulterated sin incarnate. And I still want to strangle the living daylights out of him.
I’ve got to find a way to break this curse… this bond… whatever the fuck it is.
Before I lose my god's damned mind.